


A Moment

by HopeCoppice



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is exhausted, Does it count as a confession if they sort of already know, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, Paranoia, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeCoppice/pseuds/HopeCoppice
Summary: It's not just about the Bentley, not really.A week after the apocalypse that wasn't, Crowley has yet to let Aziraphale out of his sight. If he looks away, it could all fall apart.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 384





	A Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Can't believe I managed to get this far into the New Year without a fic! What a slacker. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this even if it is a bit angsty.

The Bentley collapsed into a pile of useless metal, blazing away, belching noxious smoke, and Crowley felt his heart constrict painfully. He had _saved_ the Bentley, kept it running by sheer force of will, protected it long enough to get them to the airbase in Tadfield. To Aziraphale. He had got out of the car with a swagger, tossed a careless compliment over his shoulder, and walked away. He’d been so sure that the flames would die down without incident, that his beloved car would be fine.

The Bentley collapsed into a pile of useless metal, and Crowley wanted to collapse with it. If he couldn’t keep his car safe - if, after everything, his best efforts couldn’t keep it in place - what hope was there of saving the world? What hope of saving his angel?

The Bentley collapsed into a pile of useless metal, and Crowley-

The Bentley collapsed into a pile of useless metal-

The Bentley collapsed-

  
  


“Crowley. Wake up.” He jolted upright, casting about for some clue to his surroundings.

 _Books. Dust. Angel._ He was in the bookshop. The world had been saved; his angel had survived. It was over.

“You fell asleep here again, my dear. I let you sleep as long as I could, but I really did want to open up today, at least for a few hours.”

“Sorry, angel.”

“Nightmare?” Aziraphale must have seen the shock on his face, because he smiled serenely and explained himself. “You were flailing about a little.”

“Snake,” Crowley muttered, his usual excuse, but he was sure neither of them were fooled. “All right, angel. Open the shop. I’ll help you menace the customers.”

“That would be lovely,” Aziraphale assured him, “but you don’t have to stay. I’m sure you have places to be. Plants to see to.”

“They’ll be fine. They wouldn’t dare not be.” He didn’t dare go back to his flat, for fear that he’d find his plants hadn’t survived after all. He was exhausted, had been exhausted since the moment his car collapsed onto the tarmac of Tadfield Airbase a week ago, but he couldn’t leave. He shouldn’t have slept at all. “I’ll stay.”

“Crowley, it isn’t that I don’t want you here,” Aziraphale began delicately, and for a moment all Crowley could hear was those last few words. _I don’t want you here._ “It’s just that you seem so very tired. Surely you’d be more comfortable in your own home.”

“I’m fine, angel.”

The truth was, he was terrified to leave. The moment he let his guard down, the moment he tossed a flippant goodbye over his shoulder and walked away - what if that was when Aziraphale fell apart? What if that was when he was attacked, or he Fell, or Heaven and Hell came back for him? Crowley had thought he’d saved the Bentley, only to watch it collapse in flames before his eyes. He wasn’t going to risk the same thing happening to Aziraphale. He couldn’t.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began in a deliberately calm voice that meant he was in trouble, and Crowley realised he hadn’t moved. Aziraphale wanted to open the shop. _Stupid, stupid._ He launched himself upright and shuffled out of the way, trying to be unobtrusive by lurking in a corner of the back room. Aziraphale didn’t look any more pleased.

“Sorry. D’you want me to be a snake?”

“I want you to sit back down.”

“You’re opening the shop, I don’t want to be in the way.”

“Hang the shop. Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

That caught him off-guard; he whipped off his sunglasses and peered doubtfully at his reflection in the lenses. All right, so he’d looked better. His hair was a mess, and there were bags under his eyes that probably wouldn’t be allowed in the cabin of a commercial flight, but still. Was he that repulsive? So repulsive that Aziraphale wanted him to leave entirely? 

But he hadn’t said _leave_. He’d said _sit down_. Crowley sat.

“I’m just tired, angel. We don’t need sleep, it’ll be fine-”

“I really don’t mind, if you want to go for one of your naps. Preferably not a century, but- well, I’m sure I’d be all right on my own for a few days. A few weeks? I don’t know what you need.”

“I’m going nowhere,” Crowley growled, “I’m staying here until you kick me out, and then I’ll stay outside if needs be-”

“But _why_ , Crowley?”

“Because it fell apart! It fell apart, I tried so hard to protect something I loved and the moment I turned away it fell apart, and I’m not having that happen to _you-_ ”

“Cr-”

“I’m _never_ letting that happen to you.” Crowley realised, too late, what he had almost said, what he had heavily implied, and decided he was too tired to care. Aziraphale had known, _must_ have known, for hundreds of years. Let him hold Crowley’s heart in his hands, let him crush it and throw it aside. Crowley couldn’t afford to worry about that; all his energy had to be devoted to making sure Aziraphale was safe. He had to keep him safe.

Idly, he watched his angel’s face go through a series of expressions that implied he was making connections in his mind. He wondered what they were; he was too tired to ask. It was none of his business, really. His business was making sure Aziraphale was safe. He didn’t need to know what he was thinking to do that. 

“...You’re having a moment,” Aziraphale concluded at last, “aren’t you?”

“What is time but a series of moments?”

“No, Crowley, I mean- like the car. You’re- it’s like the car. I’m like the car, for you.”

“My car is an object,” Crowley snapped. “You’re nothing _like_ my car. I’d trade it in a heartbeat, if- because-”

“Because you love me.” There’s no doubt in Aziraphale’s voice; he sounds more certain than Crowley has ever heard him about anything. “I quite understand. I love you, too, my dear. I was going to tell you, once… once you’d got some rest.”

“I-” It was all he’d wanted for so long, but now… “If you understand, then you know I can’t leave. Can’t sleep, shouldn’t have slept earlier-”

“Crowley- Crowley, what is it that you think will happen?”

“I thought I’d saved it, and it fell apart,” Crowley repeated dully, “can’t let you fall apart. Can’t look away.”

“Oh, my love.” Something deep in Crowley’s chest flared with warmth, just for a moment, but he barely felt it under a surge of panic. “You’re not thinking straight. You must be exhausted.”

“Not thinking- _not thinking sssstraight?_ ” Crowley stumbled away from him with a frustrated hiss. “I _lost you_. Right here, in thissssss shop, you were _gone_. You were _gone_ , Aziraphale, and everything was burning! Don’t tell me I’m not thinking ssssssstraight. I can’t lose you again-” He found himself gasping for breath. “I can’t let my guard down.”

Aziraphale’s arms were around him before he could finish his sentence, the angel rubbing gentle circles into the space between his shoulder blades until he stopped shaking so hard.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I should have realised. It must have been terrible for you.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just got to keep my eye on-”

“No, no. Come with me, I need to show you something.”

Crowley allowed himself a dull moment of muted triumph; there was something Aziraphale had to show him so he could keep him safe. There was a threat, a danger to guard against. Point him at it, and he’d see it off. Then maybe the fear would subside. Then maybe he could rest.

Aziraphale gestured for him to go ahead up the stairs to his barely-used flat, and Crowley was only glad that the angel had developed some sense of self-preservation at last. If there was something dangerous up there, it would have to go through Crowley to reach Aziraphale. To _harm_ Aziraphale. He wouldn’t let that happen. Aziraphale’s hand was warm on the small of his back, steadying him as he swayed on the stairs. He had drained himself, drained every last dreg of infernal power in the course of saving the world, and Aziraphale, and himself, and he desperately needed to rest, to recharge. Later. When he was sure Aziraphale was safe, _then_ he would be able to rest.

He opened the door Aziraphale directed him to and glared suspiciously through the doorway, but no immediate danger presented itself. It was just an ordinary bedroom - perhaps a little old-fashioned and obviously barely used, but ordinary. Not a threat. No obvious danger.

“What is it?” He asked Aziraphale over his shoulder, and the angel nudged him forward.

“It’s a bed, Crowley. Mine. Get in.”

“You’re worried it’s a trap?” Even to Crowley’s barely-functioning mind, that didn’t make any sense.

“No. But I’m sure you’ll be quite comfortable. And, er- if it would make you feel better, I’ll join you. Just to read while you sleep. If you have a nightmare, or you wake up worried… I’ll be there. And when you’re rested… I’ll be there then, too, and we’ll work this out.”

“I- but-” Sleep did sound good. “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay. Please, Crowley. Sleep. I don’t want to lose you, either.”

That was how Crowley found himself slipping under a tartan blanket, snuggling close to his angel, and closing his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, and then, “wake me if there’s danger.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale told him with a chuckle, “I love you too.”

And Crowley slept, and Aziraphale read, and outside, the Bentley gleamed.


End file.
